A part of being together
by Lady Monochromic
Summary: Series of drabbles from a thirty day word prompt. Unrelated shorts of narumitsu.
1. Beginning

Often in the slip of conversation Phoenix found that his friends same question of _'when'_. However he had not known that from each person asked he found the inconsistency in his recollection of heart.

When Maya asked smirking and leaning into his reddening face, he had explained it was in the long ago days of childhood, blanketed with warm smiles and laughter.

The telephone call that soon came after was from Larry. Larry's wailing, due to the instability of girlfriends and relationships, had coaxed his best friend to say that his was from the special day he had been saved in the ostracising mock trial.

Cuddled in the arms of her father, Trucy heard the romanticised version of the other comfort he had received in the weeks of his lost badge. She had already been another witness but her smile was as if it was all fresh news.

The introduction had Apollo quick to ask but the defence attorney offered a simple laugh. Surely Apollo, admirer of Phoenix Wright, had knowledge of the court room antics across the adversary benches.

Conversing with Detective Gumshoe resurfaced the Christmas period they would (could) never forget.

Explanation of his return to the legal world had implicitly told Athena the amount of influence the Chief Prosecutor had.

A disappointed Pearl needed explanation. She was all too adament and pried further as he stuttered in the details of their first awkward date. Romantic gifts, expressions, and all things red were asked to be known by the young medium.

Franziska's demands for why her brother was a fool once more, had him blurting the contents of so many letters sent to the country of her birth. The lashings he still received after were unsurprising yet he would have feared her if she had held back.

An unexpected visit from Iris had her assured it was long after their time at college.

Thankfully he could leave silence between him and the blond sat behind the glass but he remembered that he had told him once. He had revealed the times he had exposed the prosecutor's lies to bear the truth. Really, it had been his way of keeping the indirectness towards Kristoph Gavin.

To the media it was September 7th: the first day of standing alone in trial.

But when Miles Edgeworth asked, he found himself lost in the measurements of time. Definition of when and how were gone. All he knew was the same mixed emotions that flushed here and there, always seemed to have some tie to Miles Edgeworth.


	2. Accusation - AJ

"What did you expect, Wright?" The furrowed brow deepened over disappointed grey eyes; his glare not shielded by the glasses. "The court will not think of reforming the court system especially not through the use of the jury, at least not for a few decades."

"That wasn't my aim," Phoenix shrugged, averting eye contact with the prosecutor. The props littering the office held less hostility than the man stood in front of him did.

"I know fully well that wasn't your aim," Miles said. "But the proceedings of that trial was official and you had no legal obligation to –"

"You were the one who said I would be the one to organise the jury trial," Phoenix interrupted, his nose twitched upwards. Phoenix returned eye contact holding it firmly with the prosecutor looking down on him.

"I did not say to pick and choose the jury," Pushing the impossible Miles' frown deepened sitting wrinkles between his eyes. "Knobbling the jury is a serious matter. You're seriously lucky that the prosecution is Mister Gavin who is unlikely to appeal even if it would aid his brother."

"Don't act as if you did not know what I was going to do," Phoenix did not excuse himself for his role. He took it close to his heart. No matter if the perceptive eyes of Apollo and Trucy had caught the lax smile he had given at the end of the trial, it was not that he hid his crafty work in the background. After all the Chief Prosecutor had his arms crossed in the ex-attorney's old office, and he merely sat in a lazy welcome. He hid nothing. Nothing to Miles Edgeworth.

"Phoenix, I have not come here as the Chief Prosecutor," Miles said. Phoenix could hear the slight softness in the utterance – his ears traitorously warmed at the sound of his own name.

"Sure," Phoenix shrugged, placing his arm on the back of the sofa.


	3. Restless

Miles glared at the clock through tired slits: Two-thirty. It was becoming ridiculous how much his eyes were adjusted to the darkness with the shadows of furniture. The comfort of sleep was far from mental grasp; his body seemed almost at a mergence with the mattress under him that he could feel the cautious shift beside him.

"Don't you dare go to the bathroom," Miles' voice instantly paused his partner, stopping him with one leg sticking out of the bed. "It's the sixth time."

"But–" Phoenix's protest died watching the body beside him sagging into the mattress.

Listlessly Miles turned over wrapping his hand around Phoenix's holding the sheets. Fatigue seemed to overrun the male but somehow he managed to coax his partner back to the pillow with a short tug. Phoenix hit the pillow with a soft thump facing Miles with wide eyes.

"Tomorrow would come quickly if you actually went to sleep," Miles spoke shifting his head on the pillow to have a view of Phoenix's shadowed face.

"If I could actually sleep," Phoenix said.

"Try," Miles said almost into the pillow he slept on.

Barely a minute passed before Miles opened his eyes to watch Phoenix plump his pillow longer than it was needed. Phoenix quickly apologised realising he had disturbed his partner.

Again his head hit the pillow again staring at Miles with an apologetic smile. The reply was unsurprising to Phoenix, as he saw the frown of annoyance. The wrinkles however were lacking – far different to what he usually had the joys of seeing through daylight.

It was far too tempting for Phoenix to reach out and prod his finger on the frown. Miles hummed his name and it spread an accomplished grin on the black-haired male's face.

"Sometimes, it's like dealing with a child," Miles sighed. If his eyes were open he would have seen the smile growing on Phoenix's face.

"Sometimes, it feels like I'm sleeping with an old man," Phoenix chuckled softly, his breath brushing Miles' nose.

Miles could feel Phoenix's breath brushing his nose. His breaths were calm, the excitement for whatever the man was planning was reduced. Although they had channelled to the jittering leg.

"Leg."

"Ah, sorry," Phoenix apologised forcing the unconscious movement of his leg to cease.

"Just close your eyes," Miles said.

He refused to slip himself into sleep as he waited for Phoenix to shut stubborn lids.

Neither offering a word after. The silence was a quiet and a still. It becoming so soothing that he could feel that sleep would soon arrive. However, at least the hand in his hand had also become lax.


	4. Snowflake - Kid Fluff

"It's snowing!" The child's words ringing in the excitement in the rest of the class, heads turning towards the playground. Just from seeing the soft touches of white on the playground, it was enough to fill them with dreams of making a town of snowmen and snow-angels.

Eventually the teacher had the class simmered to a happy hum whilst she carried on with the English lesson. The few lessons they had half the needed attention for the snow that had already frosted the playground like flour was bubbling their need of the outdoors. Nevertheless they endured.

After what seemed far longer than two hours had the children rushing outdoors grabbing coats – and those with protective mothers had their gloves and scarves.

"Nick, you're taking too long!" A young Larry moaned bouncing and looking at the white sheet on the playground the teachers were guarding.

"The snow will still be there when he's done," The grey haired boy stood patiently.

Phoenix was pulling on his coat, after his two layers of jumpers, in haste. He was as eager to go outside just as much as the others but his mother's words about his pre-winter bug was enough to roughly pull on his gloves and wrap a scarf round.

"All done!" Phoenix exclaimed to his two friends; their signal to free themselves in the playground had fired.

* * *

"I think Larry's given up on his picture," Phoenix said, watching the blond run after a group of girls.

"Yeah," Miles nodded.

The two of them were doodling with their fingers on the small layers of snow – their ink was the moving of snow to show the concrete underneath.

"Oh, what're you drawing?" Phoenix asked with curious wide eyes.

Miles frowned, looking at his picture to his friend. "Can you not tell what it is?" Miles said disappointed at himself.

"Uh… is it a rabbit?" Phoenix offered.

Miles' face sunk as he stared at the drawing before him, "It's a duck…"

No matter how he looked at the lines and roundness it hardly resembled the bird and it puzzled Phoenix. "Oh, I guess this part looks like a duck." Phoenix said pointed to the jagged lines on one side.

"It's okay, Phoenix," Miles shook his head. "You don't have to lie for me. I can see through your lies anyway."

"Eh? Is that one of those lawyer powers your dad has?"

"They're not lawyer-powers!" Miles retorted but a smile was already on his face from the mere mentioning of his dad. "My father helps the good guys and sees through the bad guys and all of their lies."

Phoenix nodded but soon flinched (it still visible under the layers of clothing) "I'm not a bad guy!"

"No! Of course you're not!" Miles quickly responded trying in earnest to reduce the hurt in his friend's eyes.

Quickly calmed and in reassurance that Miles had not insulted him – although a part of him thought he deserved it due to his remark at the finger drawing – Phoenix gave a huge smile that spread across his face. Miles gave a small one in reply. Their apologies were made in the sprinkled snow by their black shoes.


	5. Haze

Standing behind the defence's bench, alone, Phoenix still lacked in his mental preparation. His body was still tired from the hectic past days and trying to deal with his mentor's death, and trying to keep his focus on the case as a job and not something that seemed to be pulling at his heart. The evidence he had collected seemed to be lacking and despite knowing the witness, he had hardly been able to get anything that could help in the acquittal of Maya. Just as he unclicked the briefcase, the prosecution was waiting almost impatiently for the defence was stalling the start of the trial.

The man across on the other side of the room was staring at him with such a fierce glare that Phoenix was unsure if it was Miles Edgeworth he could see. The passive acknowledgement of who Phoenix was had got to him as though he was merely another defence lawyer in the courtroom – an adversary. It unnerved the defence at the ease in the prosecution's posture. They were signs that he was prepared and ready to battle in the courtroom to make sure the defendant – not seeing Maya Fey – was guilty for murdering her own sister.

Phoenix was doing his best to draw himself away from the strong memories of childhood that were once again back. Sweat was collecting on his collar as he tried to erase the thought of the demon prosecutor from the newspapers – he had _certainly_ not collected.

But the more he focused on the case that the state was to present, the images of the dark night were blurring into his vision. His mentor's body cold under his touch with her face losing that loving warmth of a smile. Instead he was greeted with the sobs of the young sister, Maya.

Heat and numbness ran through his body, sweat had started to trickle down his neck and collect on the top of his collar. The nerves were setting over again just as he had done defending Larry, but feelings for the man across the room ran through him watching those eyes. Beside him Maya was setting dread in his lack of experience. It took him a few blinks to clear his vision so he could face the judge so high up in his seat he could have touched the roof, whilst Phoenix could sink into the ground below him if necessary.

Rather than the escape he was blurring his personal life to the case. Something he had managed to control with Larry. However, it was becoming far too surreal that it seemed to fit into the reality: one where his eyes needed to search for the truth to come to light. If that was Mia's death, Maya's actions, or Miles' work ethics, Phoenix needed to see.


	6. Flame

"Wright, are you really that behind in your bills?" Miles commented on the candle-lit apartment. "Not even Gumshoe is this cheap."

"Hey!" Offended by his remark, Phoenix called out. "I'm not being cheap. The power has been out for half an hour in the whole building, at least that was what Ms Watts said next door. Only the emergency lights are on the stairs."

Miles hung his coat on the back of the front door next to Phoenix's, "That would be why I did not notice."

Before they moved further into Phoenix's apartment, Phoenix said "I've only got candles in here and the kitchen, so will you help me get some more to put around?"

Miles saw no reason to not comply to help him with the lighting. He followed Phoenix closely in the unlit into the dark bedroom. Despite the little light in the room, the clothes and items were strewn to such a disarray not even the darkness could hide it. Miles did not know whether to be feel slightly elated or not by the fact either Phoenix was comfortable with him to leave his home a mess, or he was too lazy – he hoped it was the former. The mess was hardly surprising to the prosecutor, not whilst Phoenix was having trouble with the box that he guessed held the candles.

Once Phoenix had rummaged in the plastic box, he handed six different sized, scented, and coloured candles to Miles. It was only just enough for Miles to carry into the small living room, dumping them on the coffee table.

"Are the matches in the top drawer?" Miles asked, setting the candles in the middle of the table.

"Yeah," Phoenix nodded letting the candles fall onto the coffee table, with some even dropping to the floor.

Leaving the man to deal with chasing after cylindrical candles and setting the room with wax in places that would allow them to see one another, Miles only stepped out to the cabinet by the front door. With the one candle on top, he did his best to find the matches.

"I don't see them in here!" Miles called back.

"Oh, I might've left them in the kitchen."

Miles sighed and slammed the drawer shut before entering the small kitchen dotted with candles by the window and refrigerator. The kitchen looked to be in a state that the man had been in the middle of cooking. Thankfully, the stoves and the electrical equipment were switched off. He could not stop the corner of his lip turn up as he saw the carrots chopped into different sizes. Beside them were the matches.

Quickly he headed back to Phoenix. He found the room empty with only the candles scattered in what seemed like odd places but would surely light the room favourably. Miles set the box of matches. He struck one lighting the room slowly with each small flame.

"Ah, I went to get more," Phoenix entered the room catching Miles lighting the last candle in the room.

After he set the candles down and they were lit, the two took seat on the sofa.

"Did you plan on making me dinner?" Miles asked after Phoenix shuffled closer to him.

"Yeah," Phoenix grinned sheepishly. "Did you see the mess, then? I was just making spaghetti though."

Miles smiled, "I'm sure it would have been fine."

"Not amazing?" Phoenix mocked taking offence, which earned an eye roll.

The two fell quickly silent staring at the space in front of them. The room decorated in the wax candles. The number of lit candles was worrying to think this was a common occurrence.

"Isn't this romantic?" Phoenix broke the silence to tease Miles. He leaned closer to brush his nose against Miles neck.

Looking up he instantly could just see Miles' unimpressed face in the dim lighting, "Please."

Phoenix laughed awkwardly, "Yeah, sorry." Phoenix shifted to lean his head back on the sofa, keeping himself securely in an intimate zone he was sure Miles would appreciate.

"You don't have to apologise," Grey eyes were soft as they made contact with blue. "I know you mean well." Miles placed his hand tentatively on Phoenix's. Phoenix slipped his smile, hiding teeth but as sincere, if not more, as the wide grins he usually displayed.


	7. Formal

Often Miles Edgeworth would excuse himself from the formal social events of the prosecutor's office, after he made a brief appearance and apologised in person to the host. However due to his new position as the Chief Prosecutor, there was no valid excuse for such a man of importance where he would be accepted to leave. The horrendous amount of small talk he had to endure trapped him in the event for legal professionals.

Again, he was with a group of attorneys that dealt with the appeals. Their offering praise had no place in flattery towards the prosecutor; he remained stern. Whilst he was sure the attorneys were able to pick up on his disinterest, they carried on with frivolous conversation. Miles was sure that he may not have minded if they were speaking of legal matters, and politics in the courts but the mentioning brought social disapproval.

"Your work ethic is as outstanding as ever Prosecutor Edgeworth," A woman swirled her wine laughed, the others following in suit.

"Is this not a social event?" An old man laughed, the others in the group added in their laughs of joke.

Miles Edgeworth was indeed stuck in the gathering. Their faces waited in earnest for him to pay them enough attention to slip themselves as part of his limited number of acquaintances.

"Hey Edgeworth!" The group of attorneys turned around at the joyous call directed towards the Chief Prosecutor. There were few that did not recognise the cheap blue suit – although they gave him some credit for the added attire of the waistcoat and gold pocket watch they thought was slipped into the breast-pocket. Frowns and whispers on the newly reinstated attorney should have attended, were not unheard by both the prosecutor and the attorney.

Miles excused himself from the group joining the new arrival by the door.

"Having fun, Miles?" Phoenix smirked, buttoning his top button and pulling the tie to the top.

"Edgeworth," He corrected Phoenix for the social situation. "You said you would be arriving earlier."

"Nah, I think they ruffled your ruffles themselves," Phoenix nodded to the usual cravat. "You ready to leave?"

"Ph– Wright, it would be impolite to leave upon arrival," Miles shook his head in disapproval but the urge to leave was too strong that Phoenix had caught it.

"It's not like they want me here," Phoenix shrugged, peering at the group of old men that was staring at the two with fond disapproval. He had to hide a snort when they quickly turned away upon both Phoenix and Miles' attention to the men. "See."

"I would have thought you wanted to prove a point."

"I don't care now I'm here." Phoenix thanked himself for persevering through the torments of the media in the first year of his disbarment; it had stoned his heart to not care for pathetic thoughts on third parties. It was a relief and he could relate to the prosecutor whom had his own fair share of media cusses.

Miles watched Phoenix trying to find what he was thinking. All was showing was the now relaxed and confident posture the man held. It was admirable that the attorney over seven years ago would have had stiffer shoulders and half his weight hidden behind the Miles' shadow, but he held himself upright. His posture was hardly lacking – although his laziness did reduce Phoenix's legal presence but the comfort that Phoenix could still be Phoenix was far greater a relief.

This was what Miles had wanted when he was putting his foot in the door to sweep up the documents to each stage.


	8. Companions

Phoenix, like many of his friends and the media, often forgot that he had only officially rivalled Edgeworth in court four times. If anything, the intensity of each case overthrew Phoenix that they bore into his mind far more than the others.

The media had highlighted the two as the courtroom rivals despite the lack of experience from the defence. However, he was sure that that was due to his pressure into Miles' first defeat ("_Rookie attorney defeats Demon prosecutor"_)

Whilst it started in earnest battle to prove himself and the dream that died, Phoenix and Miles soon mixed into the support they took on opposite benches.

Starting together in the defence with a stubborn and uncooperative Miles, sat behind the dirty glass at the Detention Centre gave the confrontation that broke the shackles at the prosecutor's feet.

It slipped into the form of collecting evidence and finding the truth in the State v Skye case.

A year lost, again, of the person Phoenix had always thought of until he was sent a game of tactics in treading round the assassin. The prosecution helping the defence.

There seemed to be too much hush when the prosecutor switched badges. The final play in the courts was the highest part in co-operative play.

Labels and names of their relationship passed by as adversaries, rivals, acquaintances and opposite companions in law.


	9. Move

"Daddy, have we got everything?" Trucy asked with her hands on her hips staring at the bare apartment that simply homed boxes and black bags filled with years accumulating junk. Most of the items were her father's; Trucy had noticed the hoarding he had managed to gather and store. She expected no less of being able to hide so many items, Phoenix was a magician's father after all.

"We'll find out if we haven't," Phoenix chuckled swinging Trucy's school rucksack on his back.

"That suits you well," Trucy laughed. She picked another one of her bags filled with her over night clothes. "So what are we doing now, daddy?"

"I guess we wait for Miles," Phoenix smiled, at his daughter now aged far older than he wanted to admit. He only thanked that the magic that lit her eyes with such brilliance had not faded.

The two stared at their home. The boxes replaced the props and clothes they usually had lying around, photo frames sat empty with blank measurements. Between them they had spent too much and yet too little time together in the apartment that too small for two. It would only be the next home with another would give them more space and time.

Breaking the quiet of their breaths was the buzz from the intercom. Hating, at that moment, the crude noise that woke his ears Phoenix quickly clicked the buzz off. He called into the microphone "Took your time."

"Tardiness is your strength, Phoenix," The familiar voice crackled through the speaker, not losing any of the teasing.

"Hey, Papa!" Trucy shouted over her father's shoulder grinning as she said those two words.

There was a strangled gasp that made the Wrights chuckle. Following after was the acknowledged "Hello" they both had been eager to hear.

"We'll be down in five then," Phoenix said before clicking the intercom off for probably his last time.

"Let's go, then!" Trucy said, grinning at Phoenix.

She dragged a suitcase and unlocked the front door. She thumbed the metal of the key before giving it to Phoenix with a soft smile. He missed an intake of breath, looking back at the empty apartment he had spent his life after college to the rollercoaster of a life he had been: from studying late into the nights before the bar exams and the tiring stress before the trials.

The years had not left him alone. Eight years he had lived permanently with his daughter, Trucy Wright and in moment he would add another. Phoenix and Trucy would be living permanently with Miles Edgeworth. A man he had never thought he could call a place of home.

"Come on, daddy!" Trucy called from the hallway. "Papa's waiting for us!"


	10. Silver

Speculations had already begun within the small columns of the newspapers, before they could say a word to their friends. Edgeworth had experience in avoiding the media to slip into any part of his personal life however the grinning attorney seemed too bashful under the constant questions.

"Mister Wright!" Too many people were shouting towards him, that Phoenix could only give a grin in the general direction of the journalists. That simple opening allowed an onslaught of questioning: all of which he could not answer ("Is that ring a commitment?" "Who's the lucky lady?" "When did you propose?")

"Uh, I can't say," Phoenix held himself. He was sure he could not be pressed as much as he did with the witnesses in court. Before another word could slip out Maya pushed him through the crowd of journalists which earned its own firing of camera flashes.

"Come on Nick," Maya said once they were free and able to stand at the bus stop with a normal breathing pattern. "You can't reveal Mister Edgeworth's private life just because you have. He'd probably burn you with his glare."

"Yeah… I felt like I was on the witness stand," Phoenix sighed, before fully processing what Maya had said. "Wait! I haven't told you about me and Edgeworth!"

There was a second's pause before Maya burst with laughter, "Oh god, Nick!"

She did not fully control herself until the bus pulled up and they sat at the back.

"We all know about you two. It's not the biggest shock factor, now." Maya nudged her friend's arm. "You did tell me you liked him after that so I assumed everything was sorted."

Phoenix nodded although he had begun to struggle on when he had explicitly told his friend about his relationship with Edgeworth.

"Let me see it, then." Maya grabbed Phoenix's left hand without permission staring at the finger that homed the silver ring. "I can't believe you didn't tell me though!"

"I was going to," Phoenix admitted although in his head he questioned when.

Staring at the glint of fine silver, Maya said "You do know you can't call him Edgeworth anymore."

"I don't call him that all the time," Phoenix flushed pulling his hand away so he could admire the ring, Miles had bought for him. The expense was greater than what Phoenix had spent on the prosecutor and he felt guilty in that right.

"Goodness, Mia was right when she was talking about that love-sick puppy she had defended," Maya pretended to pull a face of disgust but her playful smile slipped out. "So, how did he propose then?"

Phoenix coughed, a smile quick on his face and red flourishing on his ears. "I proposed."

Maya's face of shock was almost too comical that Phoenix was unsure if she really was surprised. Although Miles' cold face had almost broken yet still kept that formality when Phoenix was holding his hands tightly by his lips. Phoenix had only made eye contact with Miles when those four words kissed the pale hand he held, and it was at those words Miles' eyes had dilated. A second had gone and he thought there would be no answer.


	11. Prepared

Edgeworth's relaxed posture reflected the precise evidence that would claim the verdict that was needed. He had no made fault in the investigation and with only the autopsy report, the murder weapon, and the reliable witness he would gain the 'Guilty' verdict the murderer deserved.

Yet, why was he overthrown by Phoenix Wright? The man was a rookie. Evident by the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead with the witnesses Edgeworth brought to the stand and the evidence the defence was lacking.

Not to be fooled twice, Edgeworth had made sure he had run through every piece of evidence both at the crime scene and from the words of the witnesses. The confidence he had strode into court was the same as he had to always be prepared. The smug smile was soon wiped clean by the man in blue.

Rather than his own sake, he hoped Wright could battle the man who lived on perfection. Despite his experience on the prosecution bench, simply watching the fumbling man grasp at the statements and evidence paled him further.

Edgeworth took it to his own that he had given nervousness to the man with his hand outstretched. At least his actions never failed to stumble the man too. He waited for the acceptance in their handshake.

"Thank you, Wright."


	12. Knowledge - Kid Fluff

"Here, you'll like this book," Miles stood on the tip of his toes pulling a thick hardcover of a book on the non-fiction shelves.

Phoenix had never ventured into the shelves of non-fiction as he thought nothing interested him too much, yet the heavy book Miles was offering surprised him. The cover was of a painted, however, looking closely he noticed that the strokes were different colours and textures.

"It's heavy," Phoenix commented on the book in his hands.

"It's mainly pictures really."

Admiring the cover, Phoenix followed Miles to sit on one of the tables so he did not have to hold the book in his hands nor lap. Seating themselves Phoenix flicked through the thick art book growing a smile. The bright colours stole his interest by each stroke the artist had taken to compose. Simply looking at the pictures and reading the small commentaries from the artist, gave the boy new ideas. It was almost as if the paintbrush he had been holding in class had hidden its true talents.

Almost in a trance, did not notice the sickly voice talking to him until it was by his ear.

"Where did you find that honey?" He looked up to see the librarian bending to his height. Her face was stretched pulling a smile, he disliked.

"Um," Phoenix's eyes betrayed his friend, before he could say anything, as they quickly glanced at the shelf where he had found it.

"Now, you know you little 'uns shouldn't be in that section," She reached out taking the book from Phoenix. With the book of drawing held in her hand she straightened her posture towering over the young boy with her height, that smile still stuck on her face shadowed with the light that hit her face.

"Objection!" The loud voice from Miles, sat next to Phoenix, had not only turned the heads of Phoenix and the librarian, but the other children reading. The librarian glowered from the loud in

"Boy, may I remind you that this is a library," She spat standing routed in her place as she glared at the boy sat next to Phoenix. "I will have no disobedience for the rules. Whether you are a fond member of this library, I will not be lenient."

Phoenix could only watch his friend's face unsure of how to help Miles out – especially since it was his fault Miles had objected.

"Yes, miss," Miles nodded. "But I needed to point out that there are no rules that state that we are not allowed to read those books. Phoenix was capable of reading those books, just as I am. You haven't told me off for reading those books."

At a loss for words, the librarian could only wit for the boy to ask for his book back. She received no request but the young boy who smiled in confidence forced her to give in. She offered her smile and placed the book on the table, opening it on the page Phoenix had been reading.

"If you find any words difficult," The librarian cleared her throat. "There are some dictionaries at the front desk, or you can ask your friend."

Phoenix nodded, thanking the librarian for the book. The two boys did not watch her as she walked back to her desk, but looked at one another.

"Thanks Miles," Phoenix whispered. "You didn't have to shout though."

"It's okay and I didn't shout I just raised my voice a bit," Miles whispered back.


	13. Denial

The bouquet of flowers (the ones the florist had named and he forgot) bled water seeping through the gaps in clenched hands. The hands clutched around the stems had been there for the past two hours – he had walked from the florist to the prosecutor's office to wandering to the precinct.

He had had every reason to buy the flowers. All they missed was a home; there was not a marble slab to place them on nor an urn to lay beside. Instead all he had was to have them clenched in his hand as Gumshoe patted his shoulder.

"Did he not tell you anything before…?" Phoenix stared at the white petal that had fallen.

Gumshoe was hesitant in his reply, "Sorry, pal. I really am."

When Phoenix looked up he wanted to find that Gumshoe was lying; his time working with the detective left an easy read of the too honest black eyes. However, trying to look into those eyes was a feat in itself. It was wrong how Gumshoe's eyes flicked to the wall; they held no grief… Phoenix tried to excuse him by saying his detective work had led him slightly hardened but the soft heart of the detective defied that thought.

Phoenix swore there had to be something more to the body he had never seen. "Can I keep the note?"

"Um, sure," Gumshoe offered honest sympathy. "You've kept it long enough anyway…"

"Don't you need as evidence?" Phoenix asked, trying to prompt the detective into revealing what had been left behind in that specific Prosecutor's office.

Gumshoe looked lost for a moment before reinforcing his utterance, "We have enough to go on. I wouldn't have given you that so easily."

There was little conviction in his words but Phoenix's head was almost blank now he had so few people in his life that he was unsure on whether he was deluding himself.

Whatever it was Phoenix left the detective with no other words.

The damaged flowers were dumped outside by the precinct's own flowerbed.


	14. Wind

"Oh, I shouldn't let you offer me lifts all the time, Edgeworth," Phoenix said, exiting the courthouse with his friend. "I can offer you a lift."

Edgeworth stared at the man who did not own a driver's license – and as far as he knew not even a provisional. The grin on his face made him wary, "I'm not waiting for a bus with you."

"I didn't say that." As if to cement his statement Phoenix turned towards the car park behind the courthouse – away from the bus stop altogether.

Unsure of what the defence had in mind, Edgeworth followed him under the guise he was making his own way to his slick car. It was not until a few minutes he saw the bicycle sheds at the back of the courthouse. How had he forgotten those?

"I hope you aren't offering me a lift on that?" Edgeworth stared at the old bicycle Phoenix headed to. He slammed his briefcase in the basket at the front of the bike.

"Why not?" Phoenix asked. "It's a good bike."

He reached into his trouser pocket for the keys. He unlocked the bike, pulling it out from the racks once he had done so. Upon the distant inspection Edgeworth could tell Phoenix's bike was surprisingly in good condition aside from the scratches on the frame and the burns on the tires.

"That is utterly ridiculous." Coherent words had only forced their way to his tongue.

Ignoring Edgeworth's remark Phoenix swung his leg over the bicycle.

"Well, you surely jumped at the chance back in school," Phoenix rested his foot on the pedal leaning on the bike with half his weight.

The mentioning of his past flickered memories of sitting behind Phoenix clutching onto his friend in fear of falling. _Phoenix pedalled as fast as he could for their added weight. Miles watched his friend straining each turn as he kept pedalling towards Miles' home – his being closer to school. Throughout the ride the wind brushed past their faces from the speed Phoenix was accelerating at. Phoenix glanced back at his friend with a wide grin and Miles offered a smile back still holding on._

"Yes, when we were children," Edgeworth held the urge to clear his throat. "You're twenty-five and I doubt even Ms Fey could seat herself on the back of the bike."

Phoenix smirked, leaning forward to grip the handlebars. "Was that some consideration, then?"

"No."

"Aww, don't be shy," Phoenix patted the back of his seat. "It's always free."

At that Edgeworth cringed at the smile Phoenix gave. The light teasing with a different edge to the usual banter. The prosecutor decided that he would leave the thought unattended to and bid a farewell to the defence attorney. Phoenix waved him with a smile.

Starting the engine of his car he watched as Phoenix speed off after waving at him from the outside. Phoenix looked ridiculous dressed in his suit riding the bike back to his office. His shirt fluttered with the drag of the wind against him as he rode out of the car park. Gone from sight, Edgeworth realised he had not been staring at the bristles of black hair for concern of a lack in regards of the safety helmet, but in fact how the man's speed pushed against the air resistance in breaths of wind.


	15. Order

The usual echo of the gavel was lost in the hysteria from the gallery. All the Judge could do was bang his gavel louder with firmness to control his courtroom, ordering the bailiffs to control the shouts towards the witness and more loudly at the defence.

"Bailiff! Bailiff, take those that seek to disrupt my trial from the courthouse immediately under contempt of court. I must see that the gallery members are to be treated the same as the witness." The Judge whacked his gavel giving such an imperative that the few half-heartedly shouting soon sat down under the threat of the Judge.

Towering over the courtroom the Judge took charge in the order and the control that Phoenix wondered fought hard to see the old man whose warm heart easily moved by the witnesses, and influenced by the prosecution.

The bangs of the gavel rang in the defence's ears passing from one side to the other.

From the mouth of the Judge were words lost in the crowds chanting ("Phoenix Wright") with frustration and anger. He only saw the movement of the powerful man's beard before the gavel whacked once more. The bailiffs escorted the Judge safely out of the hectic courtroom.

Paralysed by the calls in the gallery he faced, picking out the sharp glares and shouts at him. The fury had burst only moments prior from the splotched ink of paper – at least that was what he believed.

There was a firm hand set on his shoulder shaking his entire body followed by another call on his name. "Wright!" It was closer and echoed from his face.

"Wright!" Again he was there.

Phoenix blinked. The prosecution was on _his_ side of the bench holding onto his shoulder. "Wright, the Judge has issued a recess."

Phoenix nodded, slightly numb from the shouts that rang in the background. Noise.

"Nick?" A tug on the sleeve of his jacket to turn him out of the courtroom to the lobby.

Despite their retreat into the lobby, the commotion in the room still lingered – although the optimism that it had died down was there.

Maya was frantic glancing back at the door, "Are you okay, Nick?"

"Wright, it is not your fault." Miles said, watching the attorney organise the evidence they had to wrap.

"I'm fine," Phoenix sighed but the clench of his hand defied him. Both his friends stared at him as lost as he was.

"Edgeworth, you shouldn't be concerned with the opposition. I–"

"My concern is my own, Wright. Don't choose for me." Miles interrupted, his voice low.

Maya took a light step back from the two too intimately close. Whilst she had been by Phoenix's side in the courtroom she was at a distance now – and not in the literal sense. Her friend was with the Miles. She flicked her eyes away from the two but her ears and attention were still on them.


	16. Thanks

"Aww come on, Miles. I thought I was the hopeless sop," Phoenix laughed patting Miles between his shoulder blades – not wanting to push the boundaries of affection any further. Caught off guard by an affection that was so foreign from the man, Phoenix's smile pulled into a confident grin.

"You still are," Miles retorted, although it lost part of its bite absorbed from his lips onto Phoenix's neck.

He pulled away from Phoenix keeping eye contact with ridiculous blue, and needing to distance himself from the rattling in his chest. The other disagreed; disliking the loss of warm on his upper body, Phoenix brushed his face forward resting his forehead on Miles'.

"You can't pull away after accepting my loving hug. Especially not when you usually stand there like an eggplant, useless."

Phoenix felt the exhale of a sigh on his lips. It made him smile teeth peeking from dry lips.

"I was only saying thank you." Miles said. Not wanting to disclose that it had been an impulsive behaviour from the events accumulating to the point he could see Phoenix, Miles kept his lips sealed – that was no difficulty. His time abroad had extended to his displeasure that the last week was filled with more snaps and demonic glares. Again, that would be something he would not tell the man in blue.

"Can I say my thanks?" Phoenix pressed his hand that had slipped onto the broad shoulder.

"No." Despite his verbal rejection, he did not lean away from the tilting of Phoenix's head. Phoenix brushed his nose against the pale cheek; his smile persistent in attempting to coax at least a turn the corner of Miles' lip. Phoenix leaned forward pressing his lips lightly for a peck. Miles swore it lingered but whether his judgement of time was wrong did not matter. All that did was empty space between them when Phoenix moved back.

"What was the thanks for?" Miles asked filling the proximity of their lips with his breath.

"For actually coming back." Phoenix leaned forward again but the beat of his heart was timed wrong, and all he could do was bury his head on Miles' shoulder. Both of their faces red.


	17. Look

It was supposed to be a quick glance not the lengthy minutes he took in staring at the prosecutor. The man who listened to the small talk with his subordinates. Standing motionlessly was hardly an inviting interest yet he kept his eyes on the man: waiting for his turn. It had been too long since the aspiring prosecutors tentatively reached out to the prosecutor returned from (another trip) Europe.

Whilst he waited and watched the man in pink – "Wrong one, Wright. This is the blend of magenta and burgundy" – he avoided the glances sent his way. Eyes watching him as he stood with his fourth drink in one hand and his head resting on his knuckles. As long as they did not ask nor follow his gaze he was sure to be fine alone.

However, too caught up in holding the frown towards the group (and the beers edging a slight haze) it took the black-haired male the extra thirty seconds for him to lift his head from his knuckles. His silent call for acknowledgement was seen pressed into the back of the white cravat.

Seating as upright as he could, for a non-sober man, Phoenix had contact of eye to eye with the man twenty metres away. He offered his smile which earned a small eye roll at least that was the mistake he took. A few more seconds to code the eye movement had Phoenix heading towards him.

"Took your time, Edgeworth."

"Time for what?" Edgeworth asked, finally interrupted in the conversation he had been having.

"To notice me!" Phoenix gave a slight pout but slunk into gripping tightly onto the beer glass.

Edgeworth sighed, "How could anyone not notice the messages engraved on the back of my neck. I just wished not to answer."

"I'm over it now." Phoenix flicked his eyes away to their black shoes. The shinier and unmarked shoes were no surprise to belonging to the prosecutor rather than his on-sale shoes.

"Sure," Edgeworth nodded. "Now, the judicial precedent is still fairly new and fragile under–"

By then Phoenix left Edgeworth's voice to pass his ears rather than to gain any more legal knowledge. At least now he could hear the words rather than watching those pink lips move.

Then again he could look at Edgeworth's face from a shorter distance. It was only a look, he swore.


	18. Summer

Sitting on the outside chairs as part of the passive scenery for pedestrians and vehicles, the prosecutor and the attorney conversed. Their talk flowed over the tea and juice the two were drinking in the humid air of the afternoon.

"Do you have tea in any temperature?" Phoenix asked, wiping the back of his neck with his mouth half-hanging open. Covertly he proceeded to wipe the sweat that had transferred on his hand, onto his jeans. The jeans themselves were weighed down by the heat, not hidden under the shade of the table.

"I'm not too bothered by the heat," Edgeworth brought the cup to his lips. "It's not as hot as you're making it out to be."

_If it wasn't hot then where's your cravat? The jacket on the chair defies you too. _Phoenix hid his thought behind the smirk, as he stared at the bare neck of the prosecutor. His jugular was slightly more pale

Phoenix leaned over, the centimetre too far it intruded Edgeworth's comfort, inspecting the cup that still held liquid. "Aren't you finished yet?" Phoenix sighed.

"I don't rush drinks."

"I know but…" Phoenix stared at the liquid still present again before he sat back.

"I thought you wanted to spend time with me?" Edgeworth raised his brows at his eager-to-leave friend.

The slight mentioning brought a quick fluster over Phoenix's face passing it off as the heat of the Los Angeles air.

"Well I had planned to do something with you after this," Phoenix said avoiding eye contact. He elaborated no further but instead eyed the cup in his hand. Restrained, Edgeworth felt forced to take the last sip of his tea. He squinted at the slight bitterness that resided at the bottom of the cup – not as great a beverage as his initial sip had been – but blaming his friend in rushing that last sip.

Edgeworth placed the empty cup on the table, "Happy?"

"Yep!" Phoenix laughed. The two stood up (or rather only Edgeworth did whilst Phoenix hopped to a light bounce up) Edgeworth picked up his jacket draped on the back of the chair, following his spiky-haired friend out of the little café area. Their seats soon taken up by two teenagers.

"What was it you had planned?" Edgeworth folded his jacket over his arm walking beside Phoenix. His frown a little deeper due to the sun deciding to blare just behind Phoenix. "I had thought this was just a small date at the café–"

"Date?" The high voice that escaped Phoenix was amusing and earned raised eyebrows.

"Is this not what you had in mind?" Edgeworth asked.

Phoenix cursed under his breath at the usual cocky smirk Edgeworth wore. It was too similar to having the floor in the courtroom. _I thought he was the one who wasn't good in situations that required _actual human interactions socially?

"What makes you think that?" Phoenix tried to divert it back to the prosecutor.

"You were fluttering around so much when you simply asked me to go out to the new café and treat me to tea."

A silence fell from Phoenix unsure on how to respond.

Saving him Edgeworth apologised, "Wright, if you didn't ask for it to be a date then it isn't. I have just misread your actions again."

"Ah, no it's okay." Phoenix avoided looking at Edgeworth noting their pace had slowed. "I can definitely take you to the park then."

They carried their walk, Phoenix taking a slight lead with his knowledge and choice of park. Phoenix only took one glance to the prosecutor beside him to revaluate his attire. _Maybe the lack of frills is his idea of casual?_


	19. Transformation

Eleven years… it had been eleven years since they had first met in the courtroom for the battle of the verdict. They had been Defence Attorney and Prosecutor.

In that respect neither of them had truly changed – at least not on the face of it. Phoenix was (once again) a defence attorney and Miles was a (High) prosecutor.

But truly they had both changed. Not merely changed as time had gone by but had transformed in their positions in their occupations, with fight and emotions.

With a man helping another man overseas in legal matters that should have stayed amongst those in the same ranks, and a man pulling the strings so the other could take a bar exam was all they did as part of them being behind the scenes.

Except they were not behind the scenes. They had not been covert with their actions to help.

Aid was for the other, carrying each other to a higher place. For them to be satisfied that the other man could do so much more and by giving him that, something in their heart was filled. It was not content of their own heart. Doubt to selfishness was foolish.

Never had the goal been to transform the other – that had been the effect.

Never had they thought the other was incapable.

It was simply a roundabout way. A truly roundabout way in their offerings. A roundabout way to keep their times together.


	20. Tremble

The wind howled against the glass of the tall tower. It was a beautiful view to bless those with sight. The landscape stretched to the dips and angular structure of the city. People passed with flashes of cameras up – up at that tower no more than fourteen stories high. Albeit it would be lost in the bolder buildings but a tower outshone offices.

Yet, that shine that glowed was lost on the inside by red. Dried red that had only pooled under a cold body twelve hours prior to the two lawyers. Lawyers in opposing colours – the one in blue more – placed oddly in the investigation.

Phatic talk mixed in with the ideas of the case on hand were thought out between them in their words. Conversation of topic were strictly formality although the man with spikes coaxed snide remarks from the man of ruffles.

It was relaxed. Ignore the discarded clothing, dried blood, the inked handprint on the glass windows, and the chaos of sterilised suits poking at possible evidence.

When the two turned to leave with sagging cheeks under their tired eyes, there was a momentary pause from the defence lawyer. It was dismissed as simple hesitation in following the prosecutor.

Not until the prosecutor had taken his forty-seventh step could he hear the lack of noise behind him: both a lack of awkward speech and tapping shoes. Behind him all he could see was the bowed head showing that ridiculous hair. Screaming were white knuckles gripping against the metal railings.

"Wright!" Steps skipped to head towards the heaving man, with trembling legs.

A wave of a shivering hand tried in earnest to dismiss the furrowed brow. No surprise when it failed. He could only stare at the man crouched muttering under his breath. Unable to hear him he crouched on the metallic step, levelling himself. He would have asked what brought the tremors in the tense shoulders, if he had not turned his head to the right: a view he normally would have appreciative of. The architecture of the building from the outside earned admiration but to the man who was sure a simple tap and the glass would shatter, it was anything worth such credit.

Rasps were the effects from the shivers in the heavy breaths trying to speak. Coherent speech took its time, "I um… I used the el-elevator…"

There was evident hesitation from the prosecutor before he stood up slowly. He placed his hand on the white hand still clutched onto the railing, pulling the fingers slightly free to a release. From releasing his grip on the railing it merely transferred to his friend's hand. He gave an apology which was dismissed. He was pulled onto weak legs that trembled the loose trousers at the creases.

Before he could ask anything, the prosecutor led him back the stairs they had walked down moments ago. There were both verbal protests along with physical tugs on his hand.

At the top of the stairs, where the glass stopped due to the fixture of the door, Miles spoke his concerns. "Just take the elevator."

"But–" Phoenix protested once more clenching his hand, pressing sweat onto dry hands.

"Neither of us will be leaving at this rate." Miles offered loosening his hold on his friend's hand.

A nod, thanks, and a goodbye had them leaving taking their preferred means of exiting the building.


	21. Sunset

Phoenix, idle and lonely, waited for the rings to cease and a voice to answer. Staring out of the window at the bright blue sky, calling the mobile device in the courthouse, was not procrastination in any form. However just turning around from the window to the chaos of litter – but not unclean – was not enough to fool himself.

Finally after the automated machine reminding him of a costly phone bill that would await him, the rings ceased and he heard the annoyed voice he had wanted – well maybe not the annoyed part.

Before he could vocalise a greeting, he was shot down. "Wright, I'm about to go into court." Phoenix could almost see the glare on the other end of the telephone. It worried him little.

"Yeah, but it's not like you're the prosecutor or even supervising," Phoenix chuckled. "You're just getting a thrill from watching other lawyers press and cross-examine witnesses."

"How can you make my interests in legal proceedings akin to voyeurism?" Miles sighed, his voice slightly muffled – Phoenix guessed from moving the phone away from his ear.

Phoenix snorted the laughter that tried to escape. "No, that was your own doing."

No subtleties in changing the subject Miles asked, "What did you need from me?"

Phoenix gave a soft chuckle unsure of how to answer. There had been no specific reason to call. Nothing was new in the mundane life of the defence lawyer without a client, or an assistant to raid his wallet. Purely on impulse he had called and again he spoke up (because he couldn't let the prosecutor wait any longer)

"Want to join me at the park later?" Phoenix offered, mentally preparing for a rejection.

Instead he stumbled upon the acceptance.

Miles words of "Later, being the key word. I can drive at around six with ease" had Phoenix nodding. It was not until he was prompted to answer did he realise their means of communication lost the element of sight.

"I'll see you there then."

* * *

Phoenix sighed as he dumped himself on the wooden bench facing a nearing empty park. The evening was drawing on over the city.

"Oh, so you did make it on time." Miles smirked, pulling the collar of his coat as a wall from the evening chill. He seated himself next to Phoenix on the bench viewing the quiet park.

"Don't make it sound like I'm always late." Phoenix feigned being offended at the raised eyebrows.

"Well, if it would please you, then you usually arrive in the nick of time." Miles said.

Phoenix laughed, "Was that an attempt to drop a name pun?"

"What?" Phoenix noted the confusion on the pale man's deepened brow.

"Never mind," Phoenix shrugged.

With little to say, the two sat quiet with the distance city bustling from rush hour. The park was peaceful with few people strolling their dogs, and the two lawyers seated closely on the bench. Neither spoke but simply watched the pink skyline. The building and trees blocking certain clouds that could have finished the cloud to make it look like a rabbit… but Phoenix would never know.

Beside him, Miles however was not staring at the sky. Miles was looking abehind face. Phoenix could not help his cheeks warming up.

"What?" Phoenix wiped his hand over his cheek in case his friend had spotted a horrid mark.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Oh, of what?" Phoenix asked curious as to what thoughts his face could possibly spur.

Miles raised an eyebrow before turning his head to face the changing colours of the sky.

Whilst Phoenix could appreciate the beautiful orange palette pasting over the pink and purple, he wanted his friend to acknowledge him instead. He repeated himself to ask the man to voice his thoughts but he received none. He had lost to the beautiful skies of Los Angeles.

"Fine, I'll just flatter myself with the fact you could not handle my pure handsomeness." Phoenix lifted his head up, waiting for the usual snide comment from the prosecutor.

"You are not pure." Miles flicked his eyes to look at Phoenix.

Phoenix chuckled, he had something at least. "Oh does that mean I am handsome."

"I don't think you want my opinion." Miles snorted, but Phoenix could see the softness in those grey eyes.

They fell into a simple silence when Miles turned his attention to the world around him. Following his eyesight Phoenix leaned back to simply stare at the sky that was full of orange and yellow. The sun peaked out from behind a tall office building before sinking down behind the trees of the park. Tired of the day it led but not forgetting a small glow of a goodbye. Although the sun was out of view as quick as it appeared the orange glow still remained.

"Too bad we can't see the sun go fully down."

"You can see it from my office window quite well," Miles spoke up. "If you'd like to see it."

Wondering if the statement was an invitation hidden, Phoenix smiled. He shifted to a more comfortable position which was also a tender bit closer to his friend. He would have to visit the workaholic the next day.


	22. Mad

Shouting objections and firing the points of contradictions were usual battles between the defence lawyer and the prosecutor. That was the same with whomever stood on the opposite side of the bench. Conflicting thoughts and ideas were not foreign to one another.

But this was different.

They were not standing in the courtroom, with benches and a large space of the witness stand between them. Instead they were stood in Miles' bedroom with only metre's gap burning between them. Eyes were locked in fury.

Voices were low and deep as they snapped and at the other. Curses and profanity were the least pain from the words. It was the sentences strung together with perfectly articulated syllables that stabbed one another. The flaws of the other explicitly laid out, both as vulnerable as their other half.

Time had cruelly slowed; no excuse allowed for them to not overthink their thoughts.

But when one stopped talking, they both fell into an eerie silence. Only the echoes of their voices hung…

_"If only I hadn't opened my mouth…"_


	23. Thousand

A thousand words could never be enough to explain that _feeling_ in his heart when he saw the man with odd eyebrows. Despite his educational background, writing a speech of that odd missing beat in his heart was lost in the ink of the pen. A speech depicting the defendant's motive rolled off his tongue like those irrational thoughts were transparent, but conveying his own thoughts garbled before anything left his normally articulate mouth.

The other man of a more creative mind was trumped in his own ways of expression. A picture nor even a sculpture would suffice in the telling of the romanticism playing in the heat of his blood. A picture may be a thousand words but what was there to show from a blank canvas?

Yet, somehow the other knew.

Edgeworth only had to feel that smirk pressing on his lips to have the relief he did not need words and Wright only had to feel the sigh on his neck to know that he did not need to present the failed artistry skill.


	24. Outside

The small window looking out to the city from the High Prosecutor's Office brought the reality of the outside weather to the prosecutor. His idle curiosity passing the window gave way to the need to comment to the man he was following, "Wright, it's raining too heavily now."

Turning around to Edgeworth, Phoenix wished he had not taken a look out the window of the staircase. His efforts of coaxing Miles out of his office for lunch were slipping and it was obvious that the furrowed brow (the usual frown just slightly deeper) gave thoughts of returning to his office two floors up.

Trying to prevent retreat on the prosecutor's behalf, Phoenix slid his grip on the railing down and took the first few steps of the concrete staircase. "It's not that bad." Phoenix shrugged.

"I don't find sitting in my office with drenched clothes just because I decided to get something to eat." Edgeworth frowned looking back out of the small window. The rain was falling heavily with a speed that made it visible against the backdrop of the bustling city.

"Edgeworth, I just gave my case to make you get something to eat. You're always stuck in that office, probably still would be if you didn't ask me to give some aid on the case…" Phoenix stood legs on different levels leaning towards going down.

"…I guess so." Edgeworth sighed looking away from the wet city to the man stood in a dirty hoodie and trousers he was unsure had colour _(how had he gotten past security?)_ "I still propose we eat indoors."

Phoenix contemplated on changing their meal from People's Park to a nearby sandwich bar. But he too could be stubborn. "That defeats the objective. I said we're eating outside for your benefit not stuck indoors."

"No. It's raining." Just as Edgeworth turned to the steps leading upwards, Phoenix shot up the stairs to halt his movements. It surprised them both.

"I'm getting your umbrella so we can eat and you can't excuse yourself again."

At that Phoenix turned the steps slowly at first to hold his statement in the air between them.

"If you are talking about that Noodle bar then…" The latter half of Edgeworth's refusal drifted in the empty place of the man who's feet he could see skipping steps.

When Phoenix returned with a black umbrella Edgeworth sighed. The other man laughed and they carried on their descent to the Parking lot. Edgeworth gave a thoughtful glance at his car parked up but the tug on his arm brought him to face the horrid realisation of the rain. Seeing the rain dropping to the ground only a step away from them he was sure that it had sped. The smell of drifted to his nose in a way that it took a few seconds to realise he was no longer smelling the stagnant petrol fumes left in the car park.

"Shall we?" Phoenix teased opening the umbrella for them to take the portable shelter.

Edgeworth sighed as he took the umbrella giving them both room, despite Phoenix's interest to hide his black hair under his hood.

They walked together on the dark grey pavement onwards to the park. The rain was relentless but the drops hitting the umbrella were constant and gave small percussion to their quiet – not silence. Licks of water followed their feet as when the heel left the ground. Slowly those droplets splashed minutely on the side of their shoes.

Just as they reached the gates of People's Park the rain decided to offer some sympathy as it slipped into the slow tapping on their umbrella. The park was a small scenery of what the unoriginal instinctive thoughts of the word: outside. In the middle of the grass darkened by the rain, stood the very familiar cart.

"I'm starving." Phoenix stated, urging Edgeworth with him.

Edgeworth took it inwardly cringing at the feel of the wet bench as he sat down, although the other man did not seem to mind as he greeted Eldoon. At least he had shelter from the rain. The breeze that passed to flutter one strand of untidy hair was somehow relaxing. Although he needed a cup of tea to decide the level...


	25. Winter (spring)

Phoenix greeted the cold morning with bleary eyes and a sneeze that shook the bed. Tired and hating the cold pricking his bare neck and shoulders, Phoenix curled under the comforter with contented sighs. It was an easing of warmth under the covers a faint familiar smell. Caught up in trying to drift into the dream he had already forgotten, or the inhale of clean bed-sheets, Phoenix only half-registered the opening of the wardrobe door. The shuffling of clothes was almost mute to him.

"Don't you have work to do?" The concern was muffled slightly by the comforter snug against his ears.

Phoenix groaned in response, "Yeah… but I can go in later…" Phoenix kept his eyes shut, drawling out words to shoo the other man away.

"Yes, if you were in your own home." Edgeworth's voice was a slight grind on the man wanting to hide.

Before he could grab the comforter they were tugged from him. "I'm up now."

Phoenix opened his eyes to give a lazy glare at the man slightly shadowed in the limited lighting.

"It's freezing," Phoenix shivered sitting upright unmotivated to move his legs from the warmth of the bed.

"If you were to dress yourself it would be far much warmer." Edgeworth said moving to the wardrobes.

Running his hand through the black nest on his head he sighed and admired Edgeworth slipping into his waistcoat. His dress was the usual three piece attire for work. No matter the amounts of times he would see the prosecutor dressed it made him the more reluctant to pull the one suit that was decent enough for work.

Hearing the sigh from the half-naked man, was not unusual to hear in the morning. If anything it at least told him he was fully awake. "Wright, get dressed I'm not being late because of you."

"Ouch." Phoenix said monotonously. Complying he stood pushing his navel out and back stretching his feet to rise on his toes.

Phoenix could feel the glare burning into his neck as he pulled his pressed (not by him) clothes on. When called out on his relentless need to take two minutes fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Phoenix simply nodded and finished the top button.

Finally Phoenix had managed to lengthen his morning ritual by ten minutes to return to the front door greeted fondly by glaring furrows. Edgeworth had layered his coat, scarf and gloves whilst Phoenix shoved his feet into his shoes, using Edgeworth's shoulder for stability. Shoes done and a pull of his winter coat, Phoenix pulled in his collar speaking, "Scarf."

Edgeworth pulled the red scarf from the hangers and wrapped it once before looping it into a knot, letting it hang in a simple fashion. Whilst it hung in a fashionable statement it stood out as… odd against his partner's dark coat.

"You've given me one minute to spare after driving you to your office and then to the precinct." Edgeworth's brow stayed deep under silver hair. "I've never been so enthusiastic for Spring when you the weather won't have an incessant need to take time with layers." Edgeworth exhaled as he tugged on Phoenix's scarf once more.

"Well, that rare enthusiasm will be wasted since I don't do so well when the seasons change." Phoenix smirked, sniffing his nose up to emphasise a point that could only be proven in time.

Of course, just as precedent would say, Edgeworth lost once more to Phoenix when the evidence came in the presence of a hacking cough and sneeze on a morning in March.


	26. Diamond

Phoenix stared wide-eyed at the ring sitting on the slim finger, on the precious left hand of his daughter. The tiny sparkle escaped from the two diamonds placed neatly side by side on the silver band. It highlighted the beauty of her pale skin and the small jewels held a gesture grander than the monetary worth.

Giving a weak stunned smile he trapped his daughter in an embrace he had no memory of releasing. All he could see was Trucy's bright teeth as she was given congratulations and a tentative hug from Miles.

That had happened nine hours ago…

"Phoenix, I don't know why you're so shocked." Miles sighed sipping the tea reading the hard back edition of 'Liberty within Jurisdictions' rather than the stone man beside him. "You gave them your blessing."

Miles expected an immediate rebuttal and refusing to admit he had allowed such an absurd action but only irregular breathing met his ears.

"I didn't think they were so serious." Phoenix slumped against the headboard with his limbs sighing on the bedsheets crumpling in his lap.

"Who brings the formality of marriage up with the parents of the person they are to marry without being serious?" Miles folded the broadsheet he could no longer read. "Your paternal love doesn't end once she's married."

"No, but she will cast us, _me_, aside like I hadn't raised her all these years."

"Do you have that little trust in your daughter?" Miles sighed, the complains of the man beside him were beginning to become too protective.

"It's the _fiancée_…"

"Yes, the evil fiancée, who stole our Trucy." Miles said. He had not seen the man behave in such childish ways that it was he it was slightly disbelieving Phoenix had not resorted to slamming his hands on a nearby desk and objecting to the pair.

There was knocking on the door. It took no effort to guess who wanted to speak with them. Miles answered allowing Trucy to enter.

"Daddy?" She cocked her head at the man ridden of life. When she received no reply she turned to Miles.

"Leave him, he's moping about how everyone leaves him."

"At least Trucy gives me clear warning." Phoenix nipped at his partner both aware of his implications.

"Don't worry daddy, I'm not leaving yet." She gave a soft smile walking towards the bed. She gave her father a tight squeeze. Unable to hold himself he gave a soft pat and ruffled her mousy-brown hair.


	27. Letters

Conditioned in the years of living alone, the metal flap from the front door and the flutter of envelopes hitting the ground was enough to abandon the article half-read on the laptop. The envelopes littered the rough mat obscuring the neat hallway.

When the prosecutor returned to his desk, with a handful of white envelopes, he sipped the perfect cup of herbs and sorted through the white envelopes, scanning the logos and stamps from various legal executives. However one was different: a simple envelope stamped three times after passing borders and sorting offices. Placing the envelope of personal information aside Miles bore through the letters of invitations, meetings, and regularity check-ups.

Finished with the letters that had revealed no new information, he scratched at the tape trapping the contents. After a minute of scratching and peeling at the accursed tape that was simply there to hinder curious outsiders – not him.

Inside was the familiar scrawl on thin lined paper, the simple blotches of ink pulled at the corner of his lips as he read each word. The very words on paper a slightly more tangible grasp at the thoughts of the sender. Whilst they told the same on-goings of "the life of an unemployed dad" it still struck the chords of his arteries (though he could never admit to such a thing) as if he had been there beside the man of the letter.

The room had widened as he read the scratches on the page. With each sentence read it was accompanied his own thought – writing a response already in his head. With the laptop in front of him opened he clicked a blank document open.

Writing simply: _I received your letter Wright._

The thoughts with sighs and amusement were lost on his fingers tapping the keyboard. Switching to the pen offered no more. Both the document and the paper were blank words wanting to be out yet staying in the comfort and security of the prosecutor's head.

It was not until a week later when he received an email from Phoenix that he was given the opportunity to write humble words of an apology stating that he had only just received his letter and would reply later. The quick response simply stated, "Take your time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just don't wait a month like last time."

With a sigh the paper filled with just the recipient's name was soon filled with simple responses of the mundane in his life. Ending it simply with "From" but could never write the "I miss you"


	28. Promise

Edgeworth remembered that classroom trial as a simple day in his past. Nothing stood out about the boy crying helplessly with the ostracising stares. It was his young sense of justice that made his small hand slam the desk shouting an objection in the direction of the teacher. It was not pride that had left him when the boy returned to his seat, it was the small smile for him and the other loud boy.

So as he sat as upright as he could, on the hard metallic chair, snapping at the man in blue in front of the dirt stained glass a part of him understood the need to flash that attorney's badge as though it held the weight of all the evidence. He did not need it even the pin of his own profession stabbed his thigh – as if that mattered in the closed cell.

"Edgeworth. Let me defend you." Such frank words were not pretty and Edgeworth hated to hear the sincerity.

Edgeworth's reply was the forced laugh towards the defence lawyer's cruel joke – however the pleading glaring him rooted the seriousness. Those eyes were too close. Even the glass segregating him and a defence team of two, did nothing to reduce the sincerity of his focus. It took a simple glare to dismiss the two. At least they could not feel the heat that ran to numb limbs.

It was not until hours later that the security guard handed him a pen and he wrote the letter they had been waiting for. His throat was thankful for the bright girl able to steal his lines "I know! You want us to defend you!"

His acceptance of the offer, given hours earlier with the attorney's badge, had slipped a smile on Wright's face. "This is my chance to finally pay you back."

He was stunted for a moment. The conviction and drive burned on Wright's face was only a flash. His words almost sounding like a promise that he could keep. Doubting his ability to read the emotions was pushed away when he tapped the letter in front of him.

Pushing the letter of request through the small slip in the glass to Wright, he could see those tight shoulders unknowingly carrying the night he had spent at Gourd Lake.

Three days later with a handshake of finality and certitude from the dark past, he realised how much a simple objection could influence a person's heart – although the man before him had taken steps further than he thought was necessary.

Yet he had done it. Phoenix had fulfilled the goal, the vow, and the promise of a strong heart. Chasing.


	29. Simple

Nothing had changed. At least nothing too drastic where their lives solely revolved round the other. It was a gradual realisation that their daily routines were not the same as those from a year ago.

Fishing in his wallet to give money to his waiting assistant, Phoenix had found Maya no longer asked him where he went during lunch. She smirked leaning over to punch him in the arm as they both left for lunch.

Phoenix's fitness had also lacked in concern from the bicycle often in use towards the prosecution offices. The pants that used to escape his mouth in urgency of a stable breathing pattern, were almost inaudible as he climbed the twelve floors to the prosecutor's office – and another twelve on the way down.

Unasked questions, after court, where Miles no longer offered the lawyer a lift in his car, instead the two merely carried their conversation and slipped in their designated seats.

Complexity had fallen, or rather it had never seemed to be there.

When the question arose they had found themselves wrapped limb over limb, a soft kiss passed on lips, already caught in something other than professional. Yet, neither voiced nor thought of discomfort.

Compared to the absurdity of their working lives, their personal lives was simple and washed over in casual banter and affectionate touches.


	30. Future

For Phoenix looking towards the future was too easy; he had been doing it all his life. Although, during his childhood with Larry he had stumbled along not knowing and scare of the unknown. It was fine with Larry when he too just went the flow so both were stumped and in awe of their classmate who had dreams of becoming a defence lawyer, just like his father. That boy alone was a fixated drive to look towards the possible future.

The awkward years of middle school passed with confusion as to what had happened to his dear friend, Miles. The pressured years of high school drove him down the path towards Ivy university – the art department was stunning. But the idle hope to get some job and hopefully see that friend who had saved his life all those years ago, soon threw practice of law into his heart from the newspaper headline of the "FRAUDULENT DEMON PROSECUTOR"

His heart was set towards saving that man and the only direction to keep going was through the dream that Miles had told him each day for a year. Mia was beside him on taking that first step towards the goal of saving that man.

However, it arrived far too quickly. The slug of his mentor no longer having that soft warmth and the other cold presence – holding a glare harsher than the photographs in the newspaper articles – was the one stood behind the prosecution bench, had brought the future that had seemed distant to reality. He only waited for the day when he could save that man from himself – save the man who focused too much on the looping past.

When the questions he had so longingly waited for were answered, Phoenix had felt the accomplishment that did not come solely from the correct verdict. The friendship he had lost, had taken its first stitching. They had come together at a standing point he could be sure of.

As long as Phoenix had sight of the future with Miles Edgeworth he was sure it would happen: slightly evident in the year of believing the self-pitying prosecutor had chosen death until the revival of a man seeking the truth; the years of a badge faltered by one piece of unclean paper beside a man who had reached the highest position; and the brash walk of pinning the badge to his lapel.

It only left the years of old age when the wrinkles became defined and they would slip into the stereotypical old white men of law, that Phoenix could wait for. A hand in hand and the future that would never be alone was to become a step away.

* * *

**A/N:** And it's complete. I can't believe I managed to stick to the schedule of one a day - I'm sure you can tell which days I got sloppy. If only I hadn't been on holiday this would be finished sooner. Thank you all for reading.


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